They Called Him a Dancing Monkey
by caramelmiracle
Summary: Regardless of what everyone else said about him, Steve thought he fit into the 21st century rather well for someone who'd been frozen in the ice for 70 years. Of course, with the help of Tony Stark, more or less.


A/N: I know I'm supposed to be writing the next chapter of Slow Down, and I'm so sorry but this asshole named Writer's Block is bothering me. Anyways, I'm not really sure what the plot of this is, or if there even is any. But I hope you like it. I also am still short of a beta, so if you find any errors, don't hesitate to tell me.

* * *

70 years being not-dead found Steve quite clueless, to be quite honest. He wasn't stupid, of course not. But the captain most certainly was not in any condition to test anything with _Stark _labeled on the back. Tony, suddenly being the "I-believe-in-you" man, wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I just need you for like five seconds, Steve."

"What is it Tony?" Steve had only come down to the lab because the so called "genius" wasn't smart enough to put some food into his own mouth before he died of starvation. "I've got to get to SHIELD soon, Fury called me."

"I'm working on a new StarkPhone and I need you to tell me how it works. Apparently, RnD is upset with me for fuck know's what so they won't bother even looking my way."

"Tony I don't know what you've been drinking when I haven't been here but if you think that I could possibly even figure out how to turn any of your, _things,_ on, then I would've gotten one to personally own."

"Really?"

"_I don't know,_" Steve flailed his arms, exasperated. Sure, Rogers knew how to work a simple(ish) computer, and he knew how to use his flip phone that SHIELD gave him. How do you think he could even access attack plans when they went on missions? But if you gave the poor blond and iPhone, he'd be as clueless as a fish out of water. Although, now that Steve thought about it, that wasn't the best simile to use. It doesn't really matter as it was all in his own mind, anyways. Regardless, if he couldn't work an iPhone that everyone both old and young used, how was he supposed to figure out how to _hold _a StarkPhone?

"Just, bring it to SHIELD, you don't even have to use it." Tony tossed the device across the lab and on reflex, Steve caught it. Though he almost wished he didn't, so that he wouldn't have to bring it. Now feeling guilty that he even considered such an awful idea, knowing how hard Tony (probably) worked on this phone, he stored it safely into his back pocket and started out the exit.

"Bye, Tony,"

"Oh! One last thing; I need your phone."

"My phone? Why do you need my-"

"Just give it here, Rogers." the brunette held out his hand expectantly, controlling a hologram panel with the other.

"I still don't understand why you would possibly have any use for my phone." the super soldier reached into his front pocket and pulled out his small flip phone that innocently shined the current time on the front. Softly placing it in the outstretched hand, Steve stood in front of Tony and waited for any other last minute requests. When he was faced with a turned back (that was covered with a shirt written with rather explicit wording), the captain decided it was time to go before he faced the wrath of the One-Eyed-Spy.

"Later Cap," Tony called without turning a head.

* * *

Steve tried to concentrate, he really did. Honestly. But every time that a word came out of Director Fury's mouth, all he heard was _blah blah blah. _Steve sighed, he didn't know what was going on. If Fury were to discuss something important and Steve were to miss it, he'd feel awful. Plus, he'd never hear the end of it from Tony. He could just imagine him now, sticking his face under Steve's nose, sarcastically accusing him with wide eyes and dramatic gasps.

"Cap wasn't paying true service to his country! What if something were to happen Steve? What if the world was under attack?"

Snapping him out of his thoughts was a soft ringtone and a vibration in his back pocket. Slowly and cautiously pulling out the phone, Steve saw a number he'd come to recognize. He hesitantly tapped the screen on the green button, confused when the phone continued to vibrate. He tapped it again.

"Captain, if you're going to leave for a phone call, at least pick up the call." Fury raised an eyebrow and sighed when the blond looked up, still confused. "Slide the button over to the right."

Trusting his advice, Steve took his index finger and pulled the blinking green button towards the right side of the screen. Another page popped up, showing Tony's contact icon. Raising his hand to his ear, he spoke,

"Hello?"

"Well then, took long enough Cap."

"Tony, I'm in the middle of a meeting with Director Fury."

"Mhm," there was silence on the line for a moment. "Well, tell my old Nick buddy that you've got to go."

"I can't just-"

"Seriously Steve I need you, like, now."

"I'm not leaving this chair until I deem your situation an actual emergency."

"What do you mean by actual emergency?"

"Running out of coffee is not an emergency."

"Um, yeah it is. Who knew 70 years stuck being a capsicle would-"

"_Tony._" Steve was annoyed by now.

"Alright, alright." the genius behind the phone sighed. "I may or may not have possibly blown up the lab." before Steve had the chance to reprimand him, he cut in once more, "but I mean it was an accident, and it wasn't even the whole lab anyways and nothing dangerous was exposed. Not that I keep that sort of stuff lying around, more of Bruce's area." the rambling man had to have run out of breath at some point, which gave a quite angered soldier the time to speak.

"I don't know what happened, and honestly? At this point, I'm not even sure I want to know." Steve stood up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I apologize, but I really do need to go." he said, looking to Fury.

"Yeah sure, go clean up Stark's mess. Fuck know's I don't want to." he waved his arm and turned to his computer, already forgetting about the training classes he'd been asking Steve to teach.

"Tony, I need you to go get yourself cleaned up and out of that awful lab of yours. I'll be there in about 20 minutes."

"It's not an awful lab!"

"_Go,_" and Steve hung up.

* * *

Steve didn't really know what to expect when he got to the tower. Thankfully, nothing was smoking from what he could tell, but Tony's lab being underground didn't really help the matter. Entering into the lobby, he took the resident elevator up to the common floor, expecting Tony to be showered and dressed. Of course, that wasn't what he was met with: expected.

Tony sat lounged on the couch, covered in oil smothered, smoking, burnt clothes as he channel surfed on the television in front of him.

"Tony," Steve's voice held a warning tone to it, but the brunette wouldn't have noticed anything of a sort.

"Oh, hey Cap," he turned his head around for a moment, just to return it to the screen. "I was just waiting for you. Lab's not exactly a pretty sight. Have you been down there yet?"

"I told you to get cleaned up. Natasha's going to kill you if you get her couch dirty."

"Please. My house, my money, _my couch_." Steve, of course, knew that. But he wasn't about to argue with a master assassin who was trained to murder him while blindfolded, deafened, and hands tied behind her back. As Tony turned around once more to come face-to-face with Steve's half-hearted glare, he sighed and removed himself from his rather comfortable position. "Fine, fine," They both stepped into the elevator and silently leaned against the wall. The elevator _ding_ed and Tony exited onto his floor.

"I'm going to go check on the lab." the blond ruffled his hair and rubbed his eyes, not sure if he was ready to see what explosion had taken place.

"Have fun!" Tony called back as the elevator's doors began to close.

"By golly," Steve's eyes widened as he took in the wreck that was made of the space. It was rather strange, seeing the lab for the first time, completely devoid of holograms. The only lighting that supported the room were the dim, red emergency lights. In a large portion of the back corner was a smoking _something _that Steve couldn't even see. The windows were fogged and Tony's main desk was covered in scattered tools and papers. For the first time since the battle of New York, Steve felt like he finally belonged. Which was a rather stupid time to think such a thing, but being in this room with damage more than average for _any _engineer, at least he felt like it was something he could fix. It could take a bit of time, but he knew he could.

His constant fear of never fitting into this new world? The empty hole in his heart? Regardless of what anyone told him, those were things Steve thought he may never be able to fix. Or forget.

This may have been the most ridiculously, large scaled, and blown out of proportion lab accident he's ever seen, but know that he could fix something, that he could actually help and know what he was doing? That made him feel a little less lost.

"Nice, huh?" a familiar voice entered the room smelling faintly of soap. Steve just gave him a raised eyebrow. "Or not." the captain rolled his eyes and nodded. "Get to work?" Tony sighed, already thinking of the work it'd take to repair his workshop. Again. It was almost to the point where he wasn't even excited anymore to be putting in new features as he rebuilt the room.

"Most definitely get to work."

While Steven Rogers wasn't the "world's coolest guy ever" and more than behind on almost everything that could ever possibly matter in the 21st century, he thought he was doing fine. He paid his own taxes without trouble, kept up on politics while only slightly disappointed, enjoyed his job, and got to spend plenty of time with Tony, who caught him up on technology and everything else that Steve thought wasn't important. So while he lived his life as so, he felt alright aside from the rarely-occurring dreams of his past. Maybe even better than before. He was independent, and for the most part, knew exactly what he wasn't doing. He didn't feel like he was always getting told what to do or how to live his life. He didn't feel like he was being used for something people tricked him into thinking was important.

Pft, and they called him a dancing monkey.


End file.
